Alea Iacta Est
by WelcomeToFlorida
Summary: An alternate universe starring the cast framed around the New Orleans area. With a new location comes new perspective, but that doesn't mean that anyone managed to prepare themselves for what was to come this time. A different take on how they survive and how they meet. Includes gators.


A chorus of crickets and tree frogs were preforming outside of Andrea's window while she slipped out of her muddy boots and collapsed onto her mattress. As exhausted as she was, she cracked a smile at their song—one that they performed every night during the Bayou spring and summers. The sound was so familiar to her, one that she had heard ever since she came to Louisiana years ago. It started in the evening and accompanied her until she drifted into sleep.

Pulling the covers up to her shoulders, she sighed deeply and rolled onto her side. She liked to sleep facing the door to the hall. Her quaint room sat across from the stairs and looked over the balcony to the first floor. She always left the door open because her sister, Amy, would sleep walk at night. The creaking floor of the nineteenth-century farmhouse they shared would wake Andrea from slumber, but she needed to intercept her somnambulistic sister before she could stumble down the stairs.

The light from the tall ceiling beyond her door was hard to adjust to sleeping with at first. However, after seven years of living in this house, Andrea learned how to ignore its presence while falling asleep. Amy needed it for cleaning before she went to bed herself. She worked as a waitress, ran the business aspects of their bed and breakfast and, on top of those jobs, still went to school. Andrea did not know how her little sister could handle all of the responsibility. She preferred her life to be quieter, which is why she worked their farm full-time. Having guests in her house was something she was still getting used to, but she rarely had to interact with them. If she were really fortunate, then she would not even have to see them.

However, fortune was not on Andrea's side tonight.

"Andrea," her sister's voice called from their parlor.

Roused from her rest, she grumbled to herself and peeled the sheets from her body. She dragged herself to the balcony and answered her sister's call.

Amy was standing below her at the entrance to their house. Dressed warmly, she brought a gloved hand up and motioned for her sister to come downstairs.

"What is it?" Andrea descended the staircase.

"Our guest has come in late. Said traffic caught him up around Baton Rouge. Carl already went home, so I don't have a helper to haul in his luggage. Can you grab his stuff while I give him his keys and show him around?"

Putting her hands on her hips, Andrea looked at her sister while trying to conceal how exasperated she was about the situation.

"Sure," she responded shortly. "Do I have to talk to him?"

Amy rolled her eyes.

"Why is it that even though I'm ten years younger than you, I still am more mature?" she hissed. "Yes, unless you want him to write an ugly review about our service on the travel sites. Bye-bye, extra cash."

"It's just that I look terrible," Andrea fired back in defense. "I've been out with the gators half of the day. But fine. Just turn on the porch lights and I'll bring his stuff in." Andrea passed her sister and opened the front screen door.

Looking out into their driveway, Andrea saw a green KIA hatchback with the trunk door open. However, there was no one around the car.

He was probably an old retiree tourist from Minnesota or Wisconsin here for Mardi Gras, she mused. Since she and Amy lived on the outskirts of New Orleans, they attracted a lot of business during the early spring when Mardi Gras rolled around. The same kind of people would come every year around this time: old, crotchety white couples from the north, who were trying to avoid the high prices of hotels in the city while having a place to escape the crowds. They would complain about _everything_ they could think of. She was actually glad that no one was here to speak with her, as she was not in the mood to listen to funny accents or complaining about the smell of the swamp.

"You must be the other sister," came a man's voice to her left.

Startled, she whirled about to face him. So much for not having to talk.

"Whoa, sorry! Didn't mean to frighten you," he rose from the rocking chair that he was seated in and stepped forward to shake her hand.

"My name is Glenn Rhee," he said with a smile.

Andrea was speechless. This was not what she was expecting at all. Instead of a grey-haired wrinkly white geezer standing before her, there was a young, handsome Asian man.

Realizing that she was being socially awkward by staring at him, she received his hand with a firm shake and smiled.

"Andrea," she nodded. "Nice to meet you, Glenn."

"This place is even cooler than it looked online," Glenn motioned around the grounds of the farmhouse with a large grin, "and I really like that the swamp is out back. Is it true you girls keep alligators?"

Glenn was curious about the wildlife of Louisiana. Growing up in Michigan, this was as far south as he had been before. While he was partially here for Mardi Gras, he strongly wished to get a tour of the swamps and photograph the wildlife.

"Yeah, it's true," Andrea brought him out of his thoughts with a chuckle. "Actually, that's why I look like this. I got back in from rounding the females up less than an hour ago."

"I hate to be bombarding you so many questions," Glenn trailed off pensively, "but do you mind if I walk around tomorrow and take some pictures of the swamp and animals?

"Not by yourself, you can't. The swamp's dangerous for people who aren't used to it. I'll take you along with me tomorrow. I have to make the rounds, and we can take Amy's canoe out for you to nab some pictures," she paused. "You a city boy?" she asked with a sideways smirk.

Glenn comically brought his hands up to surrender.

"You got me. Born in Seoul, grew up in Detroit."

Amy emerged through the front door.

"Here are your keys," she handed them to Glenn. "This one is for the front door, and this one is for your room."

"Thanks so much," he said. "Oh, and I didn't get the chance to grab dinner on the way in. Are there any local places still open at this hour?"

"Unless you wanna drive into the city for food, everything around here is closed," Andrea said as she stepped off from the porch to grab the last of his luggage.

"Oh," Glenn sighed, "well I can wait until tomorrow."

As he passed into the doorway, Amy stopped him with a hand.

"Actually, come into the kitchen. I can fix you something."

"Are you sure?" Glenn asked. "I mean, I hate to make you go out of your way help me like that."

"Nah, it's nothing," Amy smiled. "Follow me."

Even though Glenn had just met these girls, he was really impressed by their hospitality. Amy, who was leading him into her kitchen, certainly was going out of her way to feed him this late. It was a bed and breakfast, after all—not a bed and midnight snack.

The bacon sizzled and popped in its oil coating. Amy continued to prepare the meat while Glenn and Andrea were seated at their round wooden table. The kitchen and dining room were crammed together in a small space at the back of their house. Even though it was not sizable, the room held a lot of charm. The accents and decorations made Glenn feel welcomed, and he liked the large bay window above the sink.

"That must be a beautiful view hiding in the darkness," Glenn pointed to the large window behind Amy's head.

Pulling the pan from the oven eye, she closed the blinds and brought the food to the table.

"Biscuits, gravy, and bacon. Thank you so much!" Glenn began to dig in to his plate.

Andrea felt herself smile at the young man while he carnivorously tore at his food. He was cute, but she needed to be more careful about dropping so many hints about her attraction to him. She had just met this man, and from the looks of him, he was about a decade her junior. On that note, what was she thinking? Nothing would come of this. Glenn was just here visiting for a week or so, and then she would never see him again. Not to mention that she barely knew him. Cute does not equal crush—she scolded herself for acting like a child.

"Andrea!" Amy called out, waving in her hand in her sister's face.

"What?"

"Glenn asked you a question… and you've been staring at the tablecloth for about three minutes straight. Sorry, Glenn," Amy patted the young man on his shoulder. "She's a little weird sometimes."

"Says you," Andrea muttered with a risen brow, "that's no way to treat your big sister. I'm sorry, Glenn. What were you asking me?"

Glenn looked at Amy to his left, then Andrea to his right.

"Man, so much hostility!" he teased. "I was asking what did you study in college? I saw your degree on the wall coming to the kitchen."

"Well," Andrea began, "I started out in photography, which seems to be your interest there."

"It's my major!" Glenn interjected, "but sorry, continue."

'_I knew that he was just a baby!'_ she thought.

"Well, I realized that I sucked at taking pictures, so I decided to get a degree in journalism. Went on to get a secondary degree in accounting, then tried law school at Georgetown. But I hated that, so I dropped out. And now I'm a farmer and a bed and breakfast owner in Louisiana," she grinned. "Funny how life works, right?"

"Wow," Glenn seemed to be thinking of what to say. "You're really well educated, Andrea."

She scoffed at this.

Amy restored her hand's position on Glenn's shoulder.

"Actually, Glenn, I'm in college too," Amy began to discuss her college major.

Initially following her sister's conversation, Andrea's attention was suddenly drawn outside. Something was peculiar. It took her a few moments to discover the abnormality, but she realized that the chorus of crickets and tree frogs from the swamp had ceased. The swamp was dead silent. Her gaze fell to her palms, which she was nervously rubbing in her lap.

"Amy," Andrea murmured, "where's the gun?"

Her younger sister chocked in mid sentence. Glenn's eyes widened as he lowered the fork away from his mouth.

"Andrea, what the hell?" Amy spat with anger, but with an undertone of fear also present in her voice.

"Calm down," Andrea ordered. "You had it last, and it wasn't on the mantle when we passed it. So do you remember where you put the gun?"

Before Amy could respond, a sound reverberated from the rear porch. A single thump—the sound of a footstep.

Judging from the surprised gape and panicked expression that Amy was sporting at the moment, Glenn decided that it was a good idea not to let go of the steak knife that his right hand clutched.

Rising to her feet quietly, Andrea tip-toed to the sink and rummaged through the knife drawer. The footsteps continued outside, falling in an slow asymmetrical rhythm. Andrea snatched up a butcher's knife and looked up just as a shadow cast over her from the outside. The porch light was being blocked by something tall. They were close enough to the window that Andrea could see the rough outline of their features.

Glenn felt horrified by this, but he saw that Amy was clamping her lips together tightly in order to stifle a scream.

Andrea quietly moved to the door. Her knuckles were becoming white as she gripped the knife in her hand.

The shadow was caste into their house yet again, this time through the small window at the top of their wooden door. The footsteps ceased and the shadow remained stationary.

Andrea waited for a knock, but none came.

"Who is it?" she demanded loudly.

No response.

"Call the police," Amy hissed to Andrea.

"_You_ call now," responded Andrea. "Both of you, get back. Have the table in between you and the door, got it?"

Waiting until the other two were far enough away from the door, Andrea pulled the latch and twisted the knob. The door swung inwards.


End file.
